The strong earthquake caused by North Korea's nuclear test did little to rumble the bustling shopping district of Itaewon in central Seoul. When news of the test broke, young Koreans in its brand-name clothing stores and trendy restaurants collectively winced, sighed and went on with their lives.

South Koreans are, however, looking for an antidote to the tired cycle of threats, tests, rebukes and sanctions, and some are cautiously hopeful that the president-elect, Park Geun-hye, who will take office in around two weeks' time, could change the status quo.

"I worry about what just happened," said Doo Bong, a 27-year-old part-time waiter in a Brazilian barbecue restaurant. "This is a very big problem, and this new Park must be serious about it."

Although Park called for an "evolution" in relations between Seoul and Pyongyang during her campaign, her policy plans are still unclear. The country's former president Kim Dae-jung won a Nobel peace prize for his "sunshine policy" towards the north, a strategy of humanitarian aid and economic investment which lasted from 1998 until the current president, Lee Myung-bak, was elected by a landslide ten years later. Lee was a notorious hardliner. Analysts predict that Park may fall somewhere in between.

Park, South Korea's first female president, has built a reputation as a solidly conservative, no-nonsense politician. She is the daughter of Park Chung-hee, a military general who ruled South Korea through most of the 1960s and 1970s. Her mother was killed by a North Korean assassin in 1974.

Park strongly condemned Pyongyang's nuclear test after a 50-minute emergency national security council meeting on Tuesday, according to the Yonhap News Agency. "North Korea's nuclear test is a grave threat to the Korean peninsula and international peace, hampers inter-Korean trust-building and undermines efforts for peace," she said through her spokeswoman.

The stakes may continue to rise. According to Yonhap, Seoul's spy agency said North Korea could respond to the threat of UN reprisal measures by testing another nuclear weapon.

South Koreans are divided over how to move forward with their northern neighbour - the two countries have been technically at war since 1950 - and some of the deepest divisions are drawn along generational lines. "I'm hoping Park will be a bit softer and try to have more talks," said Park Eun-hee, 25, a left-leaning public relations worker, as she drank with friends at a bar in Seoul.

Kim Kyung-je, a 51-year-old taxi driver, was more conservative. "The whole world is against North Korea now, and I want our government to show a stern position," he said. "I agree that South Korea should help the north a little, because the people are starved. But we've given them a lot, and we don't even know if the food is getting to its people."

The scene at the sprawling demilitarised zone between North and South Korea on Tuesday was testament to how accustomed South Koreans have become to heightened tensions between the two countries. Soldiers conducted regular checks. Gift shops and exhibition halls were open for business.

"Oh great," one tour guide said blithely as he checked the news on his smartphone, about two hours after the nuclear test had been detected. "You know the price of instant noodle stocks used to go way up every time this happened." In the past, he explained, South Koreans would stockpile staple items in response to North Korean nuclear threats, and the country's capital markets would react accordingly. This time, markets remained relatively stable.

The guide added that the only thing preventing North Korea from attacking Seoul is its instinct for self-preservation. "They're crazy, but they're not suicidal," he said, adding that that was enough to keep South Koreans feeling generally safe.